It’s the Tower of Babel in South Africa. Every single day. Every day you see people completely lost, trying to have conversations and having no idea what the other person is saying.

BORN A CRIME

The book:

Today’s review of Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016) is the first one out of a friend’s book recommendation. While I’ve been a fan of Trevor Noah for years now, I had never gotten around to reading his award-winning book. The co-creator of my office book club suggested it for its great humor and earthy honesty.

The really cool thing about Trevor’s book is that much of his life revolved around his use of language to bridge racial divides. Most of these divides stem from the laws of apartheid that separated races and combined South African tribes in small spaces, forcing them to co-exist.

Spoiler: Not really a spoiler, but Trevor has gone onto an illustrious career as a correspondent and now the first African host of The Daily Show. A 2011 documentary about his first one-man comedy show in Johannesburg titled “You Laugh But It’s True” is a great follow-up to this book.

The author:

A native of Johannesburg (specifically Soweto Township), Trevor Noah was born near the end of the apartheid era of South Africa. Raised by his staunchly independent Xhosa mother, as it was illegal to be seen with his Swiss father, Trevor speaks eight languages. A latecomer to comedy, Trevor fell into the profession on a dare in 2002. He currently hosts The Daily Show through 2022.

Translation:

As mentioned previously, Trevor speaks eight languages including: English, Xhosa, German, Zulu, Sotho, Tswana, Tsonga, and Afrikaans. Throughout the book are phrases in these different languages. Additionally, South Africans are known to have a distinctive, repetitive speaking style that Trevor still exhibits today during his show and stand-up specials.

Women held the community together. “Wathint’Abafazi Wathint’imbokodo!” was the chant they would rally to during the freedom struggle. “When you strike a woman, you strike a rock.”

The shebeens were unlawful bars in the back of someone’s house.

Whenever the kids in the street saw me they’d yell, “Indola yomlungu!” “The white man!”

As a naughty child, I was well versed in Xhosa threats. Phrases like “Ndiza kubetha entloko.” “I’ll knock you upside the head.”

BORN A CRIME

What I loved:

The humor. While this may seem like a no-brainer, Trevor has not had an easy life, but he manages to weave in humor to balance the struggles. Most of his commentary is heavily sarcastic, because apartheid was just that ridiculous and deserved to be mocked.

The first family were the heirs, so there was always the chance they might get poisoned by the second family. It was like Game of Thrones with poor people.

BORN A CRIME

Which made my prayers the best prayers because English prayers get answered first. How do we know this? Look at white people. Clearly they’re getting through to the right person.

BORN A CRIME

I was so unique people would give directions using me as a landmark. “The house on Makhalima Street. At the corner you’ll see a light-skinned boy. Take a right there.”

BORN A CRIME

The history lessons. At the start of each chapter, Trevor would give a lesson on the state of South Africa. It could be about naming conventions, the insanity of apartheid laws, religious and educational options in South Africa, and how everything came back to racial or linguistic divisions.

The language connection. As someone that only speaks one language, and probably never will speak another, I am incredibly impressed by Trevor’s polyglot life. Many people in his situation would have simply stuck to English and asserted their status, but Trevor made an effort to learn.

I soon learned that the quickest way to bridge the race gap was through language.

BORN A CRIME

People would hear me speaking Xhosa or Zulu and they’d say, “Wat is jy? ‘n Boesman?” “What are you, a Bushman?” Why are you trying to be black? Why do you speak that click-click language? Look at your light skin. You’re almost there and you’re throwing it away.

BORN A CRIME

The mother/son relationship. For too long, single mothers have been derided as weak and beset by their circumstances. Though this is a memoir about Trevor, the novel really shines when he focuses on his mother, Patricia Nombuyiselo Noah. She was always in charge of her fate and pushed Trevor to be the best version of himself. Of course, they didn’t always get along…

Back and forth we went. I was too confused and angry about getting thrown out of the car to realize what had happened. My mother had saved my life.

BORN A CRIME

Patricia: “Learn from your past and be better because of your past,” she would say, “but don’t cry about your past. Life is full of pain. Let the pain sharpen you, but don’t hold on to it. Don’t be bitter.”

BORN A CRIME

She never let me see us as victims. We were victims, me and my mom, Andrew and Isaac. Victims of apartheid. Victims of abuse. But I was never allowed to think that way, and I didn’t see her life that way.

BORN A CRIME

What I liked:

The coming of age. As a woman that grew up in comfortable suburbia, I was fascinated by Trevor’s many brushes with the law, delinquency, building friendships and navigating cultural minefields. The story my friend specifically pointed out was the dance crew highlighting their main dancer: Hitler. As well, I was tickled by the sections titled “A Young Man’s Long, Awkward, Occasionally Tragic and Frequently Humiliating Education in Affairs of the Heart”. Women will forever remain a mystery to men, right?

…my humiliation had turned into a circus bigger than the event itself: Trevor the undateable clown thought he was going to have the most beautiful girl at the dance, but he’s crashing adn burning so let’s all go outside and watch.

BORN A CRIME

What I could do without:

Once again, nothing! I don’t read many memoirs, but I especially enjoyed this one for its strong honesty mixed with historical context. Trevor didn’t pull any punches and never made an effort to portray himself as the hero. Quite the opposite!

The recommendation:

Comedians are so open and transparent in their acts, so we viewers often think we’re getting the whole story. But a revealing memoir like Born a Crime shows everything we’ve been missing. I ended up crying at the end because I was incredibly moved by the culmination of Trevor’s relationship with his mother. I wasn’t ready to leave this engaging family behind, so I immediately watched You Laugh But It’s True on Netflix.

Read the book, watch the documentary and watch his specials. Does knowing more about the comedian change your opinion of him? Let me know in the comments!